Kai stared blankly into the campfire, its flickering light reflecting hollowly in his eyes. The flames danced, casting long shadows across his face, but there was no warmth in his gaze—only the numb resignation of a man who had just realized the universe was playing a cruel joke on him.

  Snow, ever attuned to Kai’s moods, pressed his massive head against his side, nuzzling him gently in an attempt to offer comfort. But Kai didn’t react. He just sat there, motionless, as if his soul had momentarily left his body.

  Across the fire, Lulu and Gin stared at him with identical expressions of disbelief and exasperation. Their silence was heavy, suffocating—but Kai already knew what they were thinking. He could practically hear the lecture forming in Lulu’s mind, the sheer incredulity radiating off Gin.

  He braced himself.

  Then—

  "Not one. Not two. THREE heaven-defying talents. THREE!" Lulu exploded, throwing her hands up in the air as if demanding an explanation from the sky itself. Her eyes burned with a mix of awe and outrage, her voice rising to a near-shriek. "Do you have any idea how statistically impossible this is?! These kinds of prodigies appear once in a millennium—and you’ve somehow collected three of them like they’re stray puppies!"

  Gin, who had been taking a long swig from his gourd, nearly choked. "I mean… technically, Lu Bu’s talent might be even greater than what you're describing."

  "NOT THE POINT!" Lulu snarled, whirling on him before turning her fury back to Kai. "This isn’t normal, Kai! This isn’t luck! This is—this is—!" She floundered for words, gesturing wildly at Zhang Liao, who was currently talking with Lu Bu and Chen Gong off to the side away from Kai, the three of them eating stew under the watchful eyes of the spirit beasts.

  "Fate screwing with me?" Kai offered flatly, finally speaking. His voice was dry, devoid of any real emotion. "Yeah. I noticed."

  Lulu made a sound halfway between a groan and a scream. "You don’t just stumble across talents like this! You don’t just happen to pick up a child from a massacre and—oh, look, another once-in-an-era genius! What’s next? Are you going to trip over a fourth one in the woods tomorrow?"

  Kai didn’t answer. He just stared deeper into the fire, as if hoping it might swallow him whole.

  Gin, ever the voice of questionable reason, scratched his head. "I mean… if we do find a fourth, we might as well start a sect at that point—"

  "NO." Kai and Lulu snapped in unison.

  Gin held up his hands in surrender. "Just saying. If the universe is gonna keep dumping prodigies on us, we might as well get something out of it."

  Lulu buried her face in her hands. "This is a nightmare."

  Kai finally tore his gaze from the fire, his eyes shifting to his three disciples. They had finished their meals, and Lu Bu—ever eager—was already demonstrating basic stances to Zhang Liao, his movements crisp and exaggerated for the younger boy’s benefit. The Windrider child watched with wide, attentive eyes, mimicking the forms with surprising coordination for someone who had just survived a massacre.

  Kai had already tested Zhang Liao’s spiritual roots earlier, and the results were as absurd as he’d feared: perfect alignment. No blockages, no imbalances—just a natural conduit for qi, waiting to be awakened. In a few days, once the shock of his ordeal faded, the boy would likely start displaying the same freakish talent as the other two.

  "On the bright side," Kai muttered, more to himself than to Lulu or Gin, "the boy will be a good distraction for Lu Bu and Chen Gong."

  For the past month, Kai and Lulu had been deliberately slowballing the two prodigies’ training. Every time Lu Bu mastered a spear technique in a day, Kai made him repeat it ten thousand times before moving on. When Chen Gong deciphered an advanced formation array from a single glance, Lulu forced him to transcribe it backward, upside down, and in three different dialects. It was the only way to keep them from burning through every scrap of knowledge at their disposal—because if they didn’t, Lulu would have to spend every waking moment scribbling manuals, and Kai would run out of things to teach before winter.

  But now, with Zhang Liao’s sudden appearance, Kai saw an opportunity.

  Delegation.

  He had promptly assigned Lu Bu and Chen Gong the task of training the new disciple themselves, under the guise of it being an advanced lesson. "Teaching others will deepen your own understanding," he’d told them, spinning the lie with a straight face. "True mastery comes from passing knowledge on."

  Lu Bu, bless his straightforward mind, had accepted the order without question. If Kai said it would make him stronger, then it must be true. He’d immediately taken Zhang Liao under his wing, drilling him on footwork and grip with the same intensity he applied to his own training.

  Chen Gong, however, had reacted differently.

  At first, Kai worried the former magistrate had seen through his ruse—that he’d realized this was just a ploy to slow them all down. But instead of calling him out, Chen Gong’s eyes had lit up with something akin to reverence.

  "Master Kai," he’d said, voice thick with admiration, "that is brilliant."

  Before Kai could process what was happening, Chen Gong had pulled out a fresh scroll, brush already in hand. "I must document this teaching philosophy. A cultivator’s wisdom should be preserved for future generations!"

  And just like that, The Great Compendium of Master Kai’s Teachings was born.

  The first entry?

  "Lesson One: To Truly Learn, One Must Teach."

  Kai had stared, dumbfounded, as Chen Gong penned an entire treatise on the supposed profundity of his throwaway excuse. The scholar had even included annotations on how this principle applied to military strategy, governance, and—somehow—tea brewing.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Now, watching Chen Gong enthusiastically explain the "hidden depths" of Kai’s "lesson" to a bewildered Zhang Liao, Kai could only rub his temples.

  It backfired spectacularly.

  Lulu, sighed. "Yeah… and your plan to slow them down has resulted in Chen Gong founding a philosophical school in your name. Congratulations."

  Gin, sprawled on the ground, raised his gourd in a mock toast. "At this rate, you won’t need to start a sect. They’ll start one for you."

  Kai groaned, slumping further into his seat as if he could physically sink away from the absurdity unfolding around him.

  "That's why I need you two to explain it to them," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Keep them from singing my praises to the heavens. I've told them a hundred times—I'm not some grandmaster. I'm a below average cultivator. But do they listen? No. They just nod like I'm being humble and go right back to treating me like I’ve descended from the immortal realms."

  Lulu rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Oh, woe is you," she mocked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You think I haven't tried? They do the same thing to me, even though I tell them to stop. The difference is, at least my praise is slightly more founded—I was on my way to becoming a Living Archive before I left my former sect. But no, apparently, that's not enough for Chen Gong. I swear, that man thinks I'm some hidden immortal in disguise. He's read way too many cultivation novels."

  Kai shot her a flat look. "You do realize that's exactly what you sound like right now, right? 'Oh, my accolades are slightly more founded—'”

  Lulu threw a stick at him.

  Gin, who had been listening with growing interest, suddenly perked up. "Wait, they're praising you too? What are they saying about me?"

  A beat of silence.

  Lulu blinked. "Oh. Uh." She glanced at Kai, who suddenly found the ground very interesting. "...They don’t really mention you much."

  Gin’s face fell. For a long moment, he just stared into the middle distance, his expression a mix of betrayal and resignation. Then, without a word, he tipped back his gourd and took a deep, deep swig, as if alcohol could erase the sting of being the only one left out of the disciples' bizarre hero worship.

  Kai winced in sympathy. "Look, it's not personal—"

  "No, no, I get it," Gin interrupted, waving a hand dismissively before taking another gulp. "Why would they care about me? I'm just the guy who gets drunk and falls off spirit beasts. Not like I’ve done anything noteworthy."

  Lulu opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again—because, well, he wasn’t wrong.

  Kai sighed. "Gin—"

  "Nope. Don’t care. Doesn’t matter." Gin took another swig, then pointed at Kai with the gourd. "But cut this 'below-average cultivator' crap," he said, his words slightly slurred but his gaze unusually sharp. "Look around you. What kind of cultivator tames an entire menagerie of spirit beasts? What kind of man stumbles across not one, not two, but three heaven-defying talents in the middle of nowhere?" He gestured wildly with the gourd, nearly spilling its contents. "There's nothing 'average' about you, and you damn well know it."

  Kai exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Fine. I'll admit I'm not normal. But the abnormalities around me don't reflect any real power."

  Gin scoffed. "Spirit beasts that obey your every whim seem pretty damn powerful to me."

  "Yeah, until we run into a Foundation Establishment cultivator or higher," Kai shot back. "Most spirit beasts aren't that strong unless they're truly exceptional or..." He trailed off, narrowing his eyes at Gin. "And I swear, if you're about to suggest I let my beastkin eat humans to become demonic beasts—"

  "Whoa!" Gin threw up his hands, nearly toppling backward. "That was never going to be a suggestion! What kind of monster do you take me for?"

  Lulu, who had been watching the exchange with growing interest, leaned forward. "Gin does raise a good point, though. There must be something special about you for all this to happen. Are you sure you don’t have some rare physique? A hidden treasure? Something that explains why the world keeps dumping miracles at your feet?"

  Kai shook his head. "No. Nothing like that."

  "What about anything strange that’s happened in your life?" Lulu pressed. "Unexplained events? Visions? Something like that."

  Kai crossed his arms, his brow furrowing as he dug through memories he had long tried to ignore. There was something—something strange, something he had never shared with anyone.

  "I do... have strange dreams," he admitted at last, his voice low.

  Lulu's eyes sharpened with immediate interest. "Strange dreams? Explain."

  Kai exhaled slowly, as if bracing himself. Then, in careful detail, he described the visions that had haunted his sleep since the beginning—dreams of another world, one utterly devoid of cultivation. A place called Earth, where mortals lived without qi, without spirit beasts, without the endless struggle for immortality. A world of towering metal cities, roaring mechanical carriages, and knowledge so advanced and strange it defied what he knew of the world.

  He told them how he had used that knowledge to innovate within his former sect—creating new species of trees with this knowledge. He then told them how his sect discovered those trees and didn’t like that and nearly condemned him to death.

  Lulu and Gin listened intently, their expressions shifting between fascination and disbelief. When he finished, Lulu tapped her chin thoughtfully.

  "Dreams of another world... interesting. But I’m not sure what that means in relation to everything else happening around you. Strange dreams don’t explain the spirit beasts or the prodigies."

  Gin, however, had latched onto a different detail entirely. "Another world, huh?" He leaned forward, suddenly far more invested. "You wouldn’t have happened to learn how to brew any interesting alcohol in those dreams, would you?"

  Kai blinked. Then, against his better judgment, he smirked. "Actually, yes. In the dreams, I live as this man named Mike. And Mike worked in a place called a microbrewery—a sorta half restaurant half brewery that makes its own unique beers and ales. I picked up a few... unconventional recipes."

  Gin’s eyes widened like a starving man who had just spotted a feast. "You’re telling me," he said slowly, "that you have otherworldly liquor knowledge just sitting in your head, and you haven’t been using it?"

  "I’ve been a little busy surviving," Kai deadpanned.

  "Unacceptable." Gin slammed his gourd down. "We’re fixing this immediately. What’s the strongest thing you know how to make?"

  Lulu groaned, rubbing her temples. "Of course that’s what you take from this."

  Kai, despite himself, chuckled. "There’s one called Everclear—"

  "I’m in," Gin declared. "Forget cultivation. This is the path to true enlightenment."

  Snow let out a disapproving whine, but Kai found himself oddly... lighter.

  For the first time in years, he had shared his secret with someone else.

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